Dean's Hell
by ImpalaAtNight
Summary: Heaven is closed. Hell is open. The brothers are together and hunting. Castiel is AWOL. So, what happens when Dean randomly stumbles across a newly human Castiel? (Season Nine? What Season Nine?) *rating has been changed from T to M due to some smuttiness at beginning of second chapter*
1. Chapter 1

Dean Winchester is in hell.

It was a normal day, he and Sam were on a hunt and stopped at a diner for lunch. Dean was looking out of the window, watching people go by, when he saw him. Castiel. They hadn't seen him for months. Months. Not since the angels fell. Not since the aborted trials. For all he knew, Cas could have been dead. But there he was, curled up in between two buildings, huddled into his clothing. Dean barely recognized him, he didn't have the trench coat and his face was scruffy from not shaving. Dean didn't even know if he knew how to shave. Cas coughed (or at least Dean thought he coughed, it looked like it from across the street) and closed his eyes, leaning against the hard brick of the building behind him. Dean got up and told Sam to wait there, then, with no explanation, he walked out of the diner and across the street. Cas didn't notice him, his eyes closed and his head leaning back against the wall. Dean stopped right behind him.

"Cas?" Dean questioned, though he knew it was him. Cas opened his eyes and whipped his head around to look at him, his eyes widening. He stood far too quickly and nearly fell over before Dean caught him. Dean stood with Cas in his arms for slightly longer than necessary before letting him go and allowing him to regain his balance. Before letting him go he noticed that he was a lot skinnier than he remembered Cas being.

"Dean... I..." Cas looked as if he was having trouble forming the words he wanted to use. Dean just gave him a grin and hugged him, reminiscent of when he found him in Purgatory. Cas returned the hug hesitantly.

"I missed you man." Dean said, stepping back and giving Cas a pat on the back. Cas smiled and Dean invited him back to the diner. Cas accepted and soon he was being hugged by Sam and sitting down to eat with them. Dean ordered a burger for him without thinking. When his food arrived he dug in, barely chewing between bites.

"Whoa man! Slow down, we don't want you to choke on us!" Dean told him, grabbing his arm to keep him from taking the bite he had lined up. Cas finished chewing and looked down at his lap.

"I'm sorry Dean. It has been a while since I had food as good as this." Castiel told them. Sam and Dean exchanged concerned looks with each other.

"Uh, Cas? What, uh, what happened?" Sam asked hesitantly.

"Yeah man, we haven't seen you for months. You're not answering my prayers, not even a phone call to tell us you're okay. And you're eating!" Dean exclaimed, his frustration bleeding out of him in the form of word vomit. Cas sighed and set his burger down, still looking at his lap.

"I'm sure you know about the angels falling." Dean and Sam nodded. "I didn't fall, not like they did. I- Metatron, he, he took my Grace. I'm not an angel anymore, I don't have my 'mojo', and the angels are hunting me. They want revenge, and I was tempted to give it to them." Castiel sighed and looked up, but still avoided their looks. "But I ran, and I fought off the ones that found me."

"Cas…" Sam reached out a hand to comfort his friend, but Castiel ignored it. Dean looked at the now-human Castiel and sighed.

"Alright, how would you like to go on a hunt with me and Sam?" He asked him, changing the subject like the ex-angel so obviously wanted.

"I would like that, though I am not sure how much help I would be." Castiel answered.

"So you don't have your powers, so what? Me and Sam have been doing this gig without powers for years, and you already know how to use a weapon. You'll be fine." He assured him. Cas smiled at him slightly. "Let's finish our lunch and head out, the sooner we gank this son of a bitch, the better." Dean bit into his hamburger and Cas followed. Sam happily dug into his salad, and soon they were on the road again, heading out to an old farm house in the fields surrounding the small town.

It's a simple salt-and-burn and the body was in flames within an hour. Dean supported Castiel as they walked out, keeping his weight off of an ankle he sprained while tackling Dean to the ground before the ghost could attack him. Dean called him an idiot, of course, but thanked him quietly on the way to the car.

Dean drove them back to the bunker and helped Cas inside. Kevin greeted them happily, though he gave Castiel a strange look (which could only be expected, keeping in mind their first meeting, and all subsequent meetings after that). Dean sat Cas down at the table that they ate most of their meals at and planned their hunts. Sam and Kevin joined the ex-angel while Dean went into the kitchen and brought out a bottle of whiskey and a few glasses. Castiel explained in more detail what happened on his side of the trails and Dean gave him a glass of whiskey.

Unfortunately, it seems Cas really likes whiskey, as he is now completely hammered and leaning against Dean in a way that should be illegal. His stubble rubbing against Dean's neck, his breath ghosting past his Adam's apple, his rumpled hair tickling his chin, it was too much. All Dean wants to do was grab him and carry him to his room and do God knew what (all though, Dean really hoped God didn't know what Dean wanted to do to one of his angels, even a fallen one).

And thus, he's in hell.

Because Sam and Kevin are right there, and they seem to have no intention of leaving, and Dean is far too sober, and dammit, Cas just fucking licked his neck!

"Alright, we're putting you to bed." Dean grumbles, lifting Cas off his shoulder and helping him stand. Cas leers at him and Dean mentally curses his word choice. "Your _own_ bed." Dean stresses. Cas pouts at him drunkenly.

"You're no fun." Cas slurs. Dean grits his teeth and hoists Cas up, gripping his waist (which was totally necessary, thank you very much) and attempts to maneuver Cas through the bunker. He somehow manages to get him to the room he picked out weeks earlier (which coincidentally was directly across from his, he didn't plan that at all, shut up) and plops him down on the bed.

"C'mon Cas, help me out here." He grumbles as he attempts to remove Cas's shoes.

"Nah unleh you tae off yer clofs too." Cas mumbles into the pillow. Dean turns his head so he doesn't have a mouthful of feathers. "Not unless you take off your clothes too." He repeats. Dean rolls his eyes.

"This is no time for games Cas." He scolds him. His had reaches for Cas's hoodie, attempting to pull down the zipper so he can take it off him. Cas's hand stops his and his fingers curl around Dean's wrist.

"Not playing a game." Cas whispers, his blue eyes, sharper than they should be for someone who could barely stand two minutes ago, find Dean's in the dimly lit room. Dean mentally curses the angel.

"Cas, you are far too drunk. I am not going to let you do something you might regret." Dean tells him, extracting his hand from the ex-angel's grip and finally getting the hoodie off. Cas allows him too and Dean tosses it on the back of the chair he put in the corner (so Cas could read, not so he could watch him sleep).

"If I still want this in the morning will you?" Cas questions him.

"Will I what?" Dean asks. He knows what Cas means, or at least he thinks he does, but Cas couldn't mean that. He's an angel, or at least he used to be one. There's no way in Hell (or, rather, Heaven) that Cas would mean what Dean thinks he means.

"This is no time for playing games Dean." The darker haired man parrots. Dean gulps and looks down at him.

"We'll deal with it if it happens. Which it won't." Dean tells him, drawing the covers up around him and tucking him in. "Now get some sleep." With that he turned and turned of the light.

"Night Dean. See you in the mornin'." Cas slurred. Dean shut the door behind him and went the few feet to his own room before collapsing on his bed. His hands drag down his face as he lets out a shaky breath.

'Cas, man, you're gonna be the death of me.' Dean thinks to himself as he lays staring at the ceiling. He sighs and stands, closing and locking his door before stripping out of his jeans and flannel. He pauses a moment before shrugging and taking off his t-shirt too, leaving him in only his boxers. He turns off his light and climbs into his bed, sinking into the memory foam mattress and closing his eyes. And if he happens to dream about a certain fallen angel and what might have happened if he had a little less integrity, well, who can blame him?


	2. Chapter 2

Dean wakes up that morning with a not so small problem. He closes his eyes and rubs a palm down his face, knowing exactly what, or rather who, caused it. He sighs and stumbles to the showers, determined to deal with it in the most normal place he can think of. Maybe it'll make what he's about to do less weird.

Dean strips off his boxers and climbs into the shower. After making sure the temperature is exactly right, he steps in and enjoys the feel of the water running down his back. He lathers up his hands with the soap and runs them up his arms, down his chest, lower. He grasps his aching member in his slick hand and starts pumping. He twists his hand slightly and flicks his thumb over the slit, a small moan forcing its way out between his lips. He closes his eyes and props himself against the side of the shower with the hand not currently wrapped around his cock. In his mind's eye he imagines a warm pink mouth where his hand is, a set of bright blue eyes staring up at him. His hand clenches on the wall and he imagines it tightening in short dark brown strands of hair. He comes with a barely concealed moan and shakes as he comes down from the resulting high.

Dean stands underneath the spray for a little while longer, washing away the dirty feeling in the pit of his stomach. He takes several deep breaths, shame, guilt, and embarrassment making their homes in his gut. He steps out of the shower and towels himself off, wrapping the now-damp towel around his waist. He steps out of the bathroom and reenters his bedroom, opening his drawers and pulling out a fresh set of clothes. He tries to keep thoughts of what he just did to a minimum, but some of the more depressing ones sneak through his barriers.

_How could you do that? He's your best friend. An ex-Angel. You shouldn't be having these thoughts about Cas, shouldn't be imaging him doing things like that to you, no matter what drunk Cas said last night._

Dean knows he's bisexual, has for a long time. He doesn't advertise it, but Sam knows and he's fine with it. As long as Dean's happy, that's what he said when he found Dean making out with Jim Harrison when they were in high school. He never told his dad, never found a way to do it. He was afraid of what the ex-marine would think of him, and sometimes, on days that he's feeling particularly masochistic, he thinks about what his father would have done if he had found out. It never ends well in his mind.

"Dean?" Sam's voice, accompanied by a knock, sounds outside his door and Dean snaps his head up.

"Uh, yeah?" He calls back, cringing at the slight squeak to his voice.

"Just wanted to know if you were planning on coming out anytime soon." Sam tells him. Dean stands and opens the door, looking up at his brother's face with a smirk.

"Sammy, I thought we covered this already? I'm out, and proud." Dean quips, pushing past his brother and his bitchface. He enters the kitchen and sees Cas sitting at the small breakfast table in there, an empty cereal bowl in front of him, seemingly lost in thought. He forces down a blush and clears his throat awkwardly. Cas turns around and his blue eyes widen when they see him.

_Don't think about the shower. Don't think about the shower. Don't think about the- Fuck!_

"Dean?" Cas's deep voice calls his name and Dean refocuses, registering the concerned look on Cas's face.

"Sorry, what?" Dean asks, wondering if Cas had been asking him something.

"Are you okay? You seem distracted." Cas comments with a frown.

_So that's how he want to play it? Not going to mention what he said last night? Fine, I can play that game._

"No, no. I'm fine. Tired I guess." He answers nonchalantly. "Didn't get much sleep last night."

"Oh. May I ask why?" Cas requests with a tilt of his head. Dean shrugs, because he can play it cool, he's cooler than cool, he's ice cold. Alright? Alright.

"Just something you said last night." Is that a blush? That's a blush. Cas is blushing.

_He looks cute when he blushes. Wait, no! __No he doesn't, shut up. He's your friend, you don't call your friends cute when they blush. Shit! Ice cold, remember?_

"Um, about the spell Metatron used." Dean adds, panic making him suddenly regret saying anything.

"Oh." Cas seems to deflate, his shoulders slumping and his face crumpling with disappointment before settling into his standard blank mask. "What about it?"

"Just, the ingredients. The Nephillim heart, the Cupid's bow, and your Grace. I was just, thinking about why it had to be your Grace specifically." Dean shrugs and rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. He did think about it, just, not as much as the other things Cas said. He mentally berates himself for even leaving his room. He knew that was a bad idea. He looks up again and immediately takes back every bad thing he's ever said about leaving his room, because Cas is blushing again and avoiding his gaze. "Cas?"

"It's nothing Dean. He probably used me because I'm gullible and far to trusting." Cas says defensively. Dean raises an eyebrow and shrugs.

"Whatever Cas." He stands and goes over to the cabinet to get himself a bowl of cereal. Someone (Sammy) thought it would be a smart idea to move the good cereal to the top shelf, causing Dean to stretch up to reach it. He can feel someone's eyes on his ass, and considering the only other person in the room, well, he'll let you figure out who's (extremely blue) eyes are on his finely sculpted rear. He smirks as he pours his bowl and turns to get the milk out of the fridge.

"Oh, and Cas?" Dean asks nonchalantly as he pours his milk. "I will if you want." Dean turns around and fixes the ex-angel (full angel, he'll always be an angel) with a knowing look. Cas's eyes fill with confusion for a second before they're flooded with hope. A small smile creeps onto his face.

"I would like that. Though, I believe that it is something best done at night." Cas answers him. Dean lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding, a weight lifting from his shoulders.

"Yeah. Maybe in the mean time I could start teaching you about how to be human." Dean offers. Cas smiles and nods, maintaining eye contact the whole time.

_Good to know he hasn't lost that._

"Uh-hm." Sam clears his throat and Dean looks over to where the moose is standing in the doorway. "You done? Some of us would like to use the kitchen without being subjected to your weird mating rituals." Sam finishes with his patented bitchface. Dean picks up his bowl and flips him off as he leaves the kitchen, Cas following after he deposits his dish in the sink. They both settle down in the library, Dean eating his breakfast and Cas reading one of the various books scattered around them.

_He's so adorable… _

_… _

_… _

_… _

_… Wait, shit!_


End file.
